


Pylades drunk, Orestes drunker

by trustmeimjoly



Series: Vies d'Amis [1]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Background Courfeyrac/Combeferre - Freeform, But Sweet, But they're in the background of this scene, Les Amis - Freeform, M/M, background Joly/Bossuet/Musichetta, this is short, tw drunkenness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:48:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22134310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trustmeimjoly/pseuds/trustmeimjoly
Summary: Grantaire is mostly sober-for once the others are drunker than he is.Enjolras has some things to say, and R is dumbfounded.The situation isn't unusual, but the words are unexpected.
Relationships: Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables)
Series: Vies d'Amis [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1596019
Comments: 4
Kudos: 95





	Pylades drunk, Orestes drunker

**Author's Note:**

> First one-shot, Enjoltaire because they are dears and honestly I want Enj to be clearer with his feelings for once.

For once, Grantaire was not the drunkest person in the small back room of the Musain. As a matter of fact, he was probably one of the most sober. He'd stopped drinking as soon as Courfeyrac had thrust a shot into Combeferre's hands, and resigned himself to the role of the Mom Friend that had been unwillingly pushed onto his shoulders. He would have asked Joly, but said young man was currently drunkenly draped over and equally drunk Bossuet, laughing hysterically for no apparent reason. 

Grantaire looked around the room at his friends. Cosette and Marius had already gone home, otherwise they'd probably have been the ones in his position, and Eponine had taken Gavroche back to the flat around midnight. Before she left, she had glared at Grantaire good-naturedly and told him that if he rang the doorbell instead of opening the door himself he would sleep outside. He wasn't quite sure to what extent she was serious. Musichetta was seated next to Bossuet, laughing alongside Joly as their boyfriend made wild gestures, probably recalling a certain incident. Combeferre and Courfeyrac were making out in a corner, and Jehan was seated between Bahorel and Feuilly, looking completely comfortable despite the rolling sexual tension between the other two as they talked about some kind of plant or other. 

But where was- 

Enjolras slumped into the chair across the table from Grantaire, a bright but drunken grin etched onto his lips. 

"R! Why're you sitting by yourself?" To his credit, his words were only slightly slurred. 

And he still looked breathtaking: cheeks flushed, eyes bright and golden curls scattered across his head in a messy halo, lips parted and... It really wasn't fair that he was so beautiful. 

Grantaire sighed but grinned at Enjolras. 

"Watching over you lot. It's exhausting, really."

Enjolras pouted, but before he could speak, Grantaire frowned. 

"Wait, you're drunk. Who convinced you to drink? I thought I'd be the first to manage."

The young man opposite him paused, frowning slightly (oh how Grantaire wished to smooth that brow and see him smile again), but it was a few moments before he answered, slowly:

"Courf...? Or Baz... I think?" Then he shrugged, "doesn't matter, I'm not really drunk."

Grantaire raised an eyebrow. 

"Aren't you?" he asked. 

Enjolras shook his head vigorously. 

"Nope! I could still argue with you! In fact, this morning I read an article about a teacher that made her students write an essay on things they didn't like about themselves and then read it in front of the classroom. She claimed it was therapeutic but there were some kids who-"

Grantaire chuckled. "I don't really wanna argue, Apollo."

Enjolras stopped talking and blinked. His eyes softened. 

"I don't really either."

Grantaire looked at him, surprised, but said nothing. He was waiting for something, but he wasn't sure what. He only knew he should let Apollo speak. 

The blond beauty in front of him stayed silent, though, looking fondly at their friends. Only after a few minutes did he look back to Grantaire, and if possible his grin became even fonder. 

"Pretty," he said quietly, and Grantaire wasn't sure he'd heard right. 

"What is?" he asked. 

Enjolras giggled- actually giggled. "You, dummy. You have stars in your eyes. You're beautiful."

Grantaire stared. This angel sitting across him with eyes that had stolen the color of the sky and hair spun from sunlight had just called him beautiful. He chuckled breathlessly. 

"You must be really drunk," was all he said. 

Enjolras' smile dimmed and Grantaire immediately regretted saying anything. 

"But you are," Enjolras protested. 

"Not compared to you, Apollo."

This time Enjolras stopped smiling entirely, and Grantaire bit his tongue. He couldn't help himself. 

"I'm just the 'fearless leader'. Other than talking about human rights and inequalities, I can't do much. I'm not very inspiring. Or interesting."

Grantaire almost choked. 

"What?"

"Not like you or the others. Courf is always so cheerful, and Ferre is so smart, and Joly is so kind, and Bossuet is funny, Baz is so energetic, Feuilly is inspiring and Jehan is so creative and the girls are so tough and amazing and even Marius and Parnasse are great sometimes." His eyes were shining again and he was sitting up now, while Grantaire was still staring at him, dumbfounded. "And you're brilliant and artistic and talented and your hair is like curls made of ebony and your eyes have the sea in them and you're pretty wonderful even though you don't know it," Enjolras reached out and grabbed Grantaire's face in his hands, bringing them closer to each other, only to continue with the same passion he used when he talked about a cause he held dear, "and I just want you to know how wonderful you are because it's very important." 

He let out a breath, and Grantaire stayed frozen, noticing how Enjolras' eyes stared into his openly, swallowing him into a whirlwind of emotions, and how his lips were pink and very, very kissable, and how their faces were only inches apart and he only had to move slightly and he could-

Something resonated within him and he leaned back slightly. 

"Wait. You don't think you're wonderful?"

Enjolras' hands slowly left Grantaire's face and dropped limply on the table with the dull sound of regret. He really wanted to pull them back. 

"No?"

The answer sounded an awful lot like a question. 

"But-?" Grantaire's words caught in his throat. 

Enjolras' eyes held a breathtaking mixture of fondness and melancholy as took one of Grantaire's hand in both of his and spoke in a soft tone the artist had never heard him use before. 

"I'm not that wonderful. I'm just blond and angry about society. People say I have charisma, and maybe that's true, but if it is their admiration isn't really genuine then, and people don't really stay because I have anything to offer except arguments and maybe hopefully equality at some point. Which is amazing, but not really anything to do with me."

Grantaire opened his mouth to retort, say anything, anything at all that would make this boy in front of him, who suddenly seemed small and vulnerable, how actually amazing he truly was-

Enjolras' finger on his lips was like the feeble fluttering of butterfly wings. "I don't have to be wonderful, though." The blonde boy continued with a soft exhale. "You are all wonderful enough to make up for it."

All of Grantaire's carefully prepared words and pressing responses died in his throat as Enjolras looked at him straight in the eyes, and Grantaire suddenly felt so overwhelmed by the soft yet fiery look in his eyes and the warm brush of his fingers that he thought his heart would burst. He had felt love before, but never quite so much, never quite almost so painful that he thought he might die if he didn't do something right now. But instead of words, or a kiss (which was absolutely out of the question, Enj was drunk!), a single tear, as if there was not so much more emotion in him, so much he wanted to say, to do, left the corner of his eye and trailed his cheek in a cold and perfect arc, and finally landed on the table, shattering like crystal. There was no sound. There could be no sound that could match that of Grantaire's heart bursting from a form of happiness he'd never thought it was possible to feel. 

Enjolras smiled a soft, adoring smile, and it was suddenly like the whole world had tilted on its axis and was now centered on that very smile, the corner of the lips pulled up just so, and the eyes shining with a thousand stars; and Grantaire tried, desperately, to put words on his emotions. Finding it utterly impossible, the raven-haired artist abandoned all the walls that he had so carefully built around Enjolras and let his eyes speak for him. His friend, illuminated by the low light in a way that made his skin glow, must have seen something there because he started, and a tear, mirroring the one that had escaped Grantaire earlier, slipped down his marble cheek. 

Both so usually loquacious could not say a word. Not a word to break the silence between them, because it was not silence and there were no words. Nothing could amount to the flow of energy and feelings passing between them and both boys took a moment to notice how close they suddenly were.  
Noses brushing, foreheads almost touching, Grantaire could hold up no longer and slowly, hesitantly broke the silence. 

"You are wonderful." Enjolras did not move, as though utterly taken by the sound of Grantaire's melodic voice. "You are one of the most wonderful, passionate, and caring people I have ever met. You bring us all together, you give me hope, and... and I could not have found someone better to fall in love with."


End file.
